


Volleyball is gay

by Caffeinevampire



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Fluff, Fluff everywhere, M/M, angst kind of, bunch of one shots and drabbles and stuff, just a lil though, likely to be aus and stuff, might be more later idk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-06
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-06-06 18:49:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 5,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6765649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caffeinevampire/pseuds/Caffeinevampire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bunch of ficlets and stuff about a group of gay dorks that play volleyball.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. KuroKen | Braces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost a year since I've written anything at all, oh my god ;-;
> 
> My wonderful friend recently got me into Haikyuu! and I'm addicted to it so yeah, you should probably expect lots of fics and stuff ^-^
> 
> Hope you enjoy ~~

Kenma positioned the camera on his phone screen to take a picture of his new cat. He was playing his favourite app, Neko Atsume, and had just managed to catch one of the rarest cats perched in a cardboard box. He saved the photo to his cat-book and altered the name to that of one of his volleyball team-mates. It would have taken too much effort to think up unique names for each one. He probably wouldn't tell his best friend, but he had at least 10 cats named after Kuroo; he named all his favourite cats after him.

He closed the app and locked his phone, picking up his PSP instead. The game inserted was one he'd completed a few times, but he enjoyed the storyline and hadn't played it for a while. Content, he opened up a new save and started over.

Kenma was so enthralled in the game that he barely noticed Kuroo enter his room. He did, however, become aware of his presence when he entered his personal-space bubble and began sighing.

Kenma ignored him. He ensured that his features remained neutral, suggesting he was unaware that he was even there. That, quite frankly, would have been impossible; if Kuroo was sat any closer, he would have been sat on him. It was irritating; his proximity damaged Kenma’s focus, and his breathing. The latter clicked his PSP buttons, trying to lose himself in the battle his character had just found himself in.

Kuroo sighed again.

The character drank a potion, restoring his health points, before charging a swarm of goblins. Kenma had memorised their fighting patterns and cut them down easily, barely losing any life.

Kuroo sighed again, louder this time.

The character engaged in a conversation regarding magical entities and a new, exciting quest. Kenma skipped through the chat, having read it multiple times, and headed back towards the town to collect supplies.

Kuroo sighed again, dramatically overemphasising it.

Kenma glanced up at the ceiling, paused the game and glared at his friend. “What's wrong?” He said, before turning back to his screen and continuing. That was all Kuroo needed.

“Thank you for noticing my distress, Kenma.” Kuroo said. Kenma didn't even need to look at him to know the expression on his face. He distantly noted that his friend sounded a bit odd though. _Weird_. “Remember how I said I had to go to the dentist?”

Kenma didn't reply. He didn't need to; he knew Kuroo would tell him regardless.

“Well, I needed something for my teeth and, since they had no more appointments for the day, they did it then to ensure I couldn't duck out of it again.” He sighed again. “I have braces.” He said, his voice a mixture of disdain and exasperation.

That explained why he sounded odd; he was talking around braces. “Everyone will be able to recognise you for the dork you are.” Kenma said gently, suppressing a smile.

“I hate them; they're cramping my style.”

“What style?” Kenma muttered and received a soft jab in the side. He paused his game again and glanced sideways. Kuroo was pouting, his cheeks more puffed out than usual. He was still invading Kenma’s personal space – still way too close for comfort. Kenma could feel heat rising to his face, knew that his complexion was tainted crimson, but his friend was too wrapped up in his problem to notice.

“I'm never going to smile again.” Kuroo said, pointedly making sure he didn't flash his teeth as he spoke. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes and turn back to his game, Kenma leaned towards his friend and quickly kissed his cheek. He wasn't really sure exactly _why_ he did it (he hadn't even confessed to Kuroo, and he highly doubted he’d feel the same), but it seemed to have the desired effect. Kuroo’s face lit up, a goofy smile transforming his face and his teeth very much on show. They were lined with red train tracks, glittering in the sunlight. His eyes were even brighter. It was adorable.

Kenma ducked his head, hiding his face behind his hair. _What did he do that for?_ He tapped at his PSP buttons quickly, and randomly, feigning disinterest in whatever Kuroo was doing. His character was running around in frantic circles, slashing at midair and casting magic in every direction. But Kenma wasn't actually paying attention to his game; he had his eyes closed and was painting an image of that smile in his mind.

“What was that for?” Kuroo asked. He sounded pleased with himself. Kenma wasn't sure he wanted to know why.

“You just did.” He said quietly, somehow managing to keep his voice steady despite his pounding heart.

“Huh?” Kuroo responded, confused. Kenma could easily picture the expression that matched that tone, but refused to open his eyes and look up at the real thing. He wasn't sure if he'd ever be able to look at Kuroo again. Still, it had been worth it to see that smile stretched across his cheeks.

“Smiled. You said you'd never smile again. You just did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for any grammatical or punctuation mistakes and out of character-ness ;-; I feel like I've forgotten how to write, oh god ;-;
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated and criticisms are always welcome.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, I hope you have a wonderful day ~ x


	2. KageHina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I hope you enjoy ~

Kageyama yawned, eyes closed, struggling to leave the snug embrace of sleep. His eyelids were heavy and a weight pinned him down against his bed. Fuzzy thoughts danced around his brain, memories and dreams blurring together. _Had a dragon really burst onto the volleyball court? Did they really take it down with a perfect spike? Did Hinata really sprout wings? Had Nishinoya really had flat hair?_

The young setter didn't want to wake up; he wanted to drift back into the land of dreams. He was comfortable – sprawled out on his back, head resting against some cushions and his arms tightly wrapped around his favourite plush – and enveloped in a cosy warmth. He was content – happy even. He wanted it to last.

But the cogs of his brain were already turning. He was waking up and there was no way to stop it. The blurred lines between reality and the dream world cleared. A thought clicked into place and he started; he hadn't fallen asleep in his own bed. _And they certainly hadn't battled a dragon._  The last thing he recalled was watching a scene from some dumb fantasy film that Hinata suggested before he'd surrendered to sleep. _Wait, that meant-_

The fuzziness was gone. Kageyama's eyelids snapped open, squinting at the bright colour that filled his immediate sight. But it wasn't the sunlight. At least, not in the literal sense. Kageyama found himself blinking at Hinata, his face inches away from his own, mouth open and a trail of drool down his chin. He stared at the small ginger, dumbfounded, shock written all over his face. _Why the hell was that dumbass sleeping on him?_

Heart thundering in his ears, Kageyama tried searching for a reasonable explanation. _Useless._  He couldn't think; he couldn't possibly concentrate with Hinata so _stupidly_ close to him. He could tell himself that it was because the middle blocker was heavy, that there was no way that anyone would be able to concentrate with a face full of orange hair, but that wasn't the full truth. Hinata had been stealing his attention for some time. Stolen glances left him breathless. Smiles in his direction brought heat to his cheeks. _It was killing him._

Panic rose in his throat as he remembered where they were: Nishinoya's. That meant any of his team members could be watching. He pictured Tsukishima's smug expression and shuddered. He gulped and glanced around, wide eyed, searching for any sign of them. He sighed with relief; they were alone. That was a whole different kind of frightening.

Kageyama turned back to Hinata and cursed under his breath. He hated the thoughts surfacing in his brain and, more than that, he hated the small boy sleeping on his chest for creating them. He'd never really had a crush before. Sure, he'd looked at people and thought they were attractive, but in an objective way, like he was admiring artwork or a sunset. When he glared – it always was more of a glare – at Hinata, his breath caught in his throat. His heart would start beating weird, fluttering in his chest like a hoard of butterflies fighting to escape. His thoughts would become incoherent, reduced to a mush of fragmented emotions and words, and he'd get the urge to do odd things. He'd never wanted to touch someone's hair before, but his fingers itched to stroke Hinata's.

His cheeks heated as he remembered where his arms were, or rather who they were still cradling. Slowly, carefully, he removed his arms from around Hinata, who groaned and shifted in his sleep. Kageyama froze. He didn't want to disturb him. _Wait, what was he thinking? Why did he care if he woke up?_ Hinata moved and nuzzled his collarbone. His breath caught in his throat, he choked and he was certain he resembled a tomato. No, he could not let the dumbass wake up and see him.

It was weird watching Hinata sleep.  _Well obviously._  But Kageyama had always assumed that he'd be a noisy, restless sleeper who wandered around unconsciously. It surprised him to discover that the small middle blocker with the very large and loud personality slept almost silently. His snores were breathless, the rising and falling of his chest slow and steady. Small sounds occasionally passed through his lips. _He's adorable,_ Kageyama thought before reprimanding himself. _Stupid, stupid._

Absent-mindedly, he reached up and brushed the stray strands of hair out of Hinata's face. His hair was soft, softer than Kageyama thought it would be; he had assumed he lathered it with product. It would make sense with the way it stuck in every messy direction possible. Hinata shifted, his eyelashes fluttering dangerously. He was stirring. Kageyama's mind blanked with fear. Panicking, he jolted upright and shoved Hinata to the floor. The latter landed in a tangle of limbs with a thud. He blinked sleepily, stunned and confused. Rubbing his eyes, he peered at his surroundings, and Kageyama briefly thought it was the most adorable thing.

"D-dumbass." He snapped, turning his head to hide his fiery-red face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, I'm sorry for any grammatical or punctuation mistakes and out of characterness. I'm still having trouble writing ;-;
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated and criticisms are always welcome.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read, have a wonderful day ~ x


	3. BokuAka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again ^-^
> 
> I was originally going to do this as Kuroken, but idk, thought it would be quite sweet as Bokuaka :3
> 
> Hope you enjoy ~

Akaashi jolted awake, confused, alarm bells blaring loudly around him. He blinked, struggling to understand the situation he’d found himself in. _Was he in danger?_ His fuzzy mind couldn't process it all. Rubbing his eyes sleepily, he peered at his alarm clock – the time was 3:45am – and noticed his phone screen lighting up. He reached towards it timidly, wincing at the glare of his screen.

‘Bokuto-san is calling…’

All traces of sleep were gone. Akaashi bolted upright, smashing the answer button and holding the receiver to his ear. Bokuto’s voice came through it, muffled, groggy and tainted with fear. _Weakness 28: Bokuto suffered from nightmares._ It had taken several sleep-deprived mornings and witnessing Bokuto waking up panting with fear before the owlish boy had confided in Akaashi. He didn't want his friend going through it alone.

“I had a nightmare.” Bokuto said feebly. It was chilling to hear his voice so quiet, so devoid of energy and joy. When Akaashi had discovered that Bokuto suffered from nightmares, he'd promised to be there for him. Though his phone was always on silent – he didn't like being disturbed whilst busy – he’d altered his settings so Bokuto’s ringtone was the loudest, the most obnoxious, so it would always attract his attention.

“Do you want to talk it?” Akaashi said gently. He could hear Bokuto’s laboured breathing in his ear and imagined the panic etched into his owl-like features. It was a thought that hurt; he much preferred Bokuto’s excited grin.

“Mhmmm.” Akaashi could picture Bokuto nodding his head and biting his lip. He’d dealt with his friend’s dejected moods time and time again – _hell, dealing with it came naturally to him now_ – but this was different. It frightened him. It wasn't something that appeared on the court or something that teamwork and support could banish. It was something that hurt Bokuto, _really hurt him_ , and he had tried to brave it out and deal with it on his own.

“I, uh, I dreamed that there was an earthquake during nationals. The ceiling collapsed. It…” Bokuto’s voice cracked. “It landed on you Akaashi, and I couldn't do anything to stop it. I couldn't-“ He broke off, breathing rapidly. A strange noise squeaked out the receiver, like a broken off sob. Akaashi felt cold. He couldn't stand it. He wanted to stop it. “I- Uh- I-“

“Bokuto-san.” He whispered. “Listen to me, okay? It wasn't real. I'm here. I am alive. I am okay. Are you okay?”

“I'm okay.” Bokuto said quietly. “I feel better hearing your voice.” And just like that, the taint of fear was gone. Enthusiasm returned to his voice as he added, much louder, “Akaashi, can you talk to me until I fall back to sleep?”

Akaashi sighed before he could stop himself. It was _just_ like Bokuto to rapidly change moods. He had to admit though, he felt better hearing that energy return to him. A small smile crept across his cheeks. “What do you want me to talk about?”

“Volleyball, of course.” Bokuto practically shouted into the phone. “And how good I was in that practice the other day. Tell me you saw that last spike.”

//

_Three years later_

Akaashi screwed up his face, trying to ignore the finger prodding his cheeks, willing him to open his eyes.

“I had a nightmare.” Bokuto said softly, his voice cracking. Akaashi’s brain woke up a little more, his concern kicking it into action. But he doesn't open his eyes; he doesn't need to. He lifted an arm and gently tugged Bokuto towards him. Akaashi wrapped his arms around him protectively, stroking his soft hair with one hand. He smiled as his boyfriend relaxed into him, nuzzling his cheek.

“It's okay Koutarou, you're safe.”

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any grammatical or punctuation mistakes and out of characterness.
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated and criticisms are always welcome.
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you have a lovely day ~ x


	4. TsukkiYama

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't the best b/c I tried to write it before college ;-; 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy :)

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima walked down the street side by side, only an inch or so apart, in the direction of home. Every now and again, their hands would brush and Yamaguchi would suck in his breath, furiously blushing and praying that his best friend failed to notice. Which hardly seemed likely, but Tsukishima didn't comment once.

It was late spring. Blossom trees were blooming and shedding their petals. A warm breeze rustled the trees, possessing a swarm of blossoms. They drifted through the air gracefully, floating in the direction of two friends. The wind picked up again and the blossoms attacked them.

Yamaguchi couldn't hold in a giggle as they washed over Tsukishima, burying themselves in his hair, down his hood, under the lining of his clothing and in his pockets. Without thinking about it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and snapped a photo of a mildly amused Tsukishima. The latter’s small smile dropped, glancing at Yamaguchi questioningly. “Did you just-“

“Sorry Tsukki!” Yamaguchi said automatically, practically throwing his phone in his friend’s direction. His nerves were even more heightened than usual; he was afraid that Tsukishima would click on about his feelings and leave him in the dust. _‘Stop being pathetic.’_ He often repeated to himself, trying to convince himself that everything he felt was platonic. He couldn't even get that right.

Tsukishima clicked at the buttons on his phone and Yamaguchi bowed his head, too ashamed to watch. He heard his friend make a satisfied noise – he'd probably managed to delete the picture – then felt lips against his cheek and the telling click of his camera phone. Yamaguchi peered around bewildered, feeling lost. _What just happened?_ He thought wildly, heart racing.

Nothing seemed to have changed. Tsukishima was still fiddling with his phone. _Had he just imagined it?_

Tsukishima tapped a few more buttons, gave it a look of approval and handed it over. Yamaguchi glanced at the screen and his heart stopped.

“Tsukki…” He stammered, cheeks ablaze. His lock screen was the photo Tsukishima had taken; it was a selfie of the two of them, Yamaguchi glancing down, freckles dark against his fiery red face, and Tsukishima kissing his cheek. It made him feel a mixture of warm and embarrassed.

“Come on, Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima said, already several paces ahead.

“Yes, Tsukki.” Yamaguchi called, racing to catch up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any grammatical or punctuation mistakes and out of characterness. If there's any that bother you particularly, don't be afraid to point them out and I'll correct it ^-^
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated and criticisms are always welcome.
> 
> Thank you for reading and I hope that your day is as wonderful as you are :3 ~ x


	5. BokuAka

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say that I'm very appreciative of all your kudos, bookmarks & comments, etc! It always motivates me and just makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It means a lot to me that you all take the time to read these and I'd just like to thank you all a lot, it honestly means so much to me.
> 
> Anyway, I feel like this is a bit of a mess, but I hope you enjoy ~

Valentines Day was one of Akaashi's least favourite days of the year. _What was the point in it?_ It just seemed like a useless excuse to flaunt your other half and guilt them into buying gifts. In his opinion, if someone was in a relationship, they should show their affection, privately or publicly (though he was less fond of PDA), every day of the year and buy gifts whenever they felt it was necessary, not just for some _stupid made up_ holiday.

His disregard towards the holiday had _nothing_ to do with the fact that he'd never received a valentine like most people assumed. He had. Plenty of times. But he didn't care for them and never returned the favour. He didn't see the point, and he didn't _really_ have the time to waste. He’d rather just treat Valentine's Day like another ordinary school day and work through it like nothing had changed.

This Valentine's Day was no different. He woke up at the usual time, dressing himself quickly in his school uniform and eating breakfast with his parents. His mother had made a comment about the day, and he wrinkled his nose, pretending he hadn't heard. He packed his school bag, wished his parents a good day and walked to school as usual.

He arrived on time, keeping his eyes trained on the floor to avoid sickly displays of affection and oversized, disgustingly overdramatic gifts. With every step, he was thankful that he wasn't forced to carry one of those monstrosities around with him for the entire day. People occasionally gave him cringey cards, or heart origami, but those were easy to shove into his bag and pretend he’d never received.

Akaashi wasn't cynical about love. It wasn't that he didn't believe in it either. He just didn't believe in Valentines Day. He already wanted it to be over.

The day passed rapidly and as extraordinarily normal as he could force it to be. A few cards passed Akaashi’s way, but he managed to slot them in between book pages and swiftly forget about their existence. He wasn't even sure he could remember which girls gave them to him. Even if he did, it wouldn't matter; he didn't – how did people put it – _swing that way._ By the end of his lessons, he felt exhausted. Not physically, but emotionally. It was hard work trying to ignore all the obnoxious banners, declarations of love and cheesy gifts. He was more than ready to lose himself in volleyball practice.

Sighing, he hurried towards the changing rooms and flung his bag down. He opened his locker to grab his practice attire and a card fluttered out, landing face down on the floor. Momentarily deserting his clothes, he bent over to collect it. He couldn't help feeling confused, or control the strange way in which his heart was beating. _Who would have sent him a card?_ By process of elimination, only one of his teammates could have done it given where it as hidden. He hated to admit it, but there was one _specific_ member he wouldn't _quite mind_ getting a valentine from.

He plonked himself down on the bench and stared at it, puzzling over it, before realising that he was gawking at the back of it. His fingers might have trembled slightly as he turned it over, ready to cringe at the embarrassing cover. Except he didn't. His heart rate sped up instead.

The front of the card was coloured in crayon – bright, loud colours scribbled messily across the page. There was a large bird, _an owl to be precise,_ with a lopsided heart in it's claws. Black messy handwriting spelled out "you're a hoot." It wasn't hard to figure out who the card was from.

Cheeks heating, Akaashi opened the card. He felt warm and flustered and his stomach was tight. His hands were undeniably shaking now. Written inside in capitalised, colourful writing were the words: "AKAASHI, HOOT HOOT YOU’RE CUTE! TWIT TAWOO I LIKE YOU! LOVE ?"

Akaashi closed it, unable to prevent a smile from slipping across his cheeks. He held it over his chest for a brief moment, waiting until his heartbeat steadied to a safer rate, before tucking it safely in his front pocket. He tried to push it out of his mind temporarily, but as he changed into his volleyball gear, his mind kept wandering back to it and to its sender. He hated to admit it, but it made him happy. _Really happy._ It gave him the hope that maybe, just maybe, his crush, not only " _played for the same team"_  but also liked him too. 

The door swung open behind him and a loud voice boomed excitedly, “HEY AKAASHI, DID YOU LIKE YOUR CARD? I mean, uhh, I HEARD YOU WERE SENT A VALENTINE, ANY IDEA WHO IT WAS FROM?” _Bokuto_. Warmth bubbled up inside of him again.

Akaashi turned around to see the owl-like wing spiker beaming at him. His heart skipped a beat or two before beating frantically in his ears. He paced towards the door, walking slowly, with purpose, each step steady and in time with the last. He kept constant eye contact with Bokuto, though he wanted to shiver and duck under his gaze; he felt like those owl eyes were peering straight into his soul. Maybe Bokuto could see all his secrets. Maybe that's why he'd sent the card.

Akaashi thought it'd take more time to reach Bokuto, but suddenly he was in front of him, mind numb with words he couldn't say. Without thinking, simply acting instead, Akaashi leaned forwards on his tip-toes, steadying himself with one hand on Bokuto’s bicep, and pressed his lips to his cheek. His thoughts caught up with actions and he realised exactly what it was he was doing. He was kissing Bokuto. On the cheek, no less, but-

He moved away rapidly, blushing furiously. What if he’d just read the whole situation wrong? Maybe the card had been meant in a platonic way. Maybe Bokuto hadn't sent it at all. Maybe he'd just hoped it was from him and therefore assumed.

“Uh, thanks for the card.” He mumbled. He wanted to move, to run away from the embarrassing situation he'd buried himself in, but his feet were rooted to the spot. And _oh no, their other teammates were watching too. Well done Akaashi._

Bokuto grinned, his entire face lighting up in a way it never had before. Akaashi had never seen him look so happy, not even when he’d won that dumb bet against Kuroo. Then he took Akaashi completely by surprise and kissed him back. _Nope, definitely not platonic_.

Valentine's Day was still one of Akaashi’s _least_ favourite days, but this one wasn't a day he'd  easily forget. And quite frankly, he didn't want to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just couldn't resist saying something about Akaashi & Bokuto "playing for the same team" b/c they quite literally do ohoho :')
> 
> I'm sorry for any grammatical or punctuation mistakes and out of characterness. Don't be afraid to point them out and I'll amend them ^-^
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated (more than you know) and criticisms are always welcome.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and I very much hope your day is as lovely as you are ~ x


	6. IwaOi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had writer's block and was seriously struggling to try and write this ahhh ;-;  
> Anyway, I got it done eventually and I hope you enjoy ~

Iwaizumi ran his hand through his hair in growing frustration, glaring at the textbook he’d been working from. He’d been studying for an hour straight and the concept he was trying to understand was making his head spin. It was infuriating. His frown deepened and he could hear Oikawa’s predictable comment of “ _scary, Iwa-chan_ ” echoing around his mind.

Sighing, he glanced up at his boyfriend, who was clearly oblivious to his distress and presumably threatening expression. _Definitely just his imagination then. Maybe the stress was getting to him._ His boyfriend, Oikawa, was curled up in Iwaizumi’s bed, at the opposite side of the room, blanket hanging from his shoulders and deeply immersed in a book titled “The Humans.” His glasses were slightly askew on his nose which was crinkled ever so slightly in concentration. Thin silver grips pinned his thick, luscious hair behind his ears in a futile attempt to prevent it from falling in his face. _(‘I still look cute Iwa-chan, don't laugh.’)_ He was pouting and frowning, creating crease lines in his smooth skin, as he focused on reading.

Iwaizumi stared at him shamelessly, admiring his beauty whilst he couldn't build an ego about it. He always believed that Oikawa looked the best when he wasn't aware of his appearance – when he was asleep in a crumpled mess, drool lining his chin; when was staring at the stars in awe, mouth open in wonder, pointing out his favourite constellations; when he lost himself in books and films or was enthusing about them excitedly; when his mask slipped away and his raw emotions, be it happy or devastated, shone through on his face; when he played volleyball intensely, drenched in sweat and so thoroughly focused on the match that his looks were no longer a factor he considered. Those moments, when Oikawa let all his walls down, were what caused Iwaizumi to fall head over heels. The _real, true_ Oikawa was who he loved.

Oikawa suddenly glanced up, dragging Iwaizumi out of his thoughts. His cheeks coloured as an amused expression danced across Oikawa’s features; his staring hadn't gone unnoticed.

“So I was thinking,” Oikawa began, placing his book flat down on a pillow and shuffling towards the edge of the bed. “How do you know I'm not an alien?”

Iwaizumi groaned, trying to remind himself why _exactly_ it was that he loved Oikawa. He was such an idiot sometimes, spouting intricate theories at random and inappropriate moments. At least this one was prompted by the book he was reading. _Right_?

“Well, firstly-" Iwaizumi began, raising a finger. "An alien wouldn't be so stupid to draw attention to itself by raising the issue.”

“Hey!”

“And secondly–" he raised another finger, imitating the peace sign that Oikawa so-often did in photos – "if aliens abducted you, they’d realise they made a mistake within a few _seconds_  and would be begging us to take you back.”

“So mean, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa whined. He puffed his cheeks out, pulled out his bottom lip and huffed. It looked especially adorable with his pinned back hair and glasses. 

“Thirdly-“ Iwaizumi started, climbing to his feet and discarding his textbook.

“I don't want a thirdly.” Oikawa muttered, shaking his head firmly and reaching back towards his book. He ended up sprawled out on his back, legs over the edge of the bed and head somewhere in the middle. He raised the book over his face, using it as an excuse to fake ignorance of Iwaizumi’s presence on the other side. The latter frowned, flopped down beside him and flicked his cheek.

“Ow, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa gasped indignantly.

“Thirdly-“ Iwaizumi began again, emphasising the word. Oikawa huffed. “If you were an alien, you would respond differently to this.” He pushed aside the book with some force – Oikawa made an attempt to rescue it before getting sidetracked – and cupped his boyfriend’s face in his hands. In one swift movement, he pressed his lips against Oikawa’s, kissing him fiercely. Oikawa buried his hands in Iwaizumi’s shirt, curling his fists around the soft fabric, pulling him closer and kissing him deeper.

When they pulled apart, breathless, Iwaizumi murmured, “An alien wouldn't respond like that.”

“The alien just might really, really like you.” Oikawa laughed softly, cheeks flushed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for any grammatical or punctuation mistakes and out of characterness. I've wanted to write something about these two dorks for a while, but I feel like I'm really bad at keeping them in character ;-; I'm paranoid about most things slipping out of character, but these two especially gahhh
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated (seriously, it inspires me like heck) and criticisms are always welcome. I'm hoping to improve my writing and get tons better, so yeah, criticism is always helpful ^-^ 
> 
> Thank you so, so much for reading and I hope that your day is as lovely as you are ~ x


	7. KageHina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahaha, this is a bit of a mess, but enjoy ^-^

Hinata had accepted his fate _before_ the tall, dark figure marched towards him. Anger radiated off them in vicious waves – rage _so_ obvious and savage it could kill with a glance. Milk would be curdled, the dead would have turned in their graves, and nightmares would have fled in fear. It was the embodiment of sinister, a sight so deadly it sparked fear in even the bravest of hearts. But Hinata didn't flinch; he wasn’t afraid. In fact, he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel anything _at all._ His world – usually buzzing and bouncing with noisy energy – had been stilled. He was devoid of energy, devoid of emotion. He’d been reduced to an empty pit, incapable of feeling.

_Numb. That's all he felt; he was drowning in it._

He glanced upwards at the figure, blinking, imagining their black cloud of emotions washing over him. _He felt nothing._ Kageyama was yelling at him, features twisted into an ugly scowl. His face was close to Hinata’s – maybe only two inches away – and he _should_ have felt threatened, _he should have felt something,_ but he didn't. The proximity wasn't causing him to flush. His heart wasn’t beating in his ears _so loud and painfully obvious that he could swear the whole world can hear it._ He couldn't hear anything. He couldn’t even hear his friend’s screams. There was some point he was missing and Kageyama’s yells were falling upon deaf ears. He was engulfed in silence. _He was drowning in it._

‘ _Maybe I’m dying._ ’ Hinata thought. Nothing panged in his chest. There was no painful twinge at the thought of leaving everything behind. ‘ _Maybe this is what it feels like to be dying – to be dead.’_

His heart was beating against his rib cage – strong and steady, like it always was. But his brain refused to acknowledge it. He didn't want to believe that the blood was pumping effortlessly around his body. He didn't want to know that the world was still turning, that time was moving on without him. _Because why should it?_ He couldn't feel a thing.

Hinata’s eyes flitted to Kageyama’s mouth, watching his jaw clench and his lips shape out his argument. ‘ _Maybe I should kiss him._ ’ Hinata thought. It sounded all wrong. It wasn't a foreign thought to cross his mind, but he’d never thought about it so objectively. It _normally_ caused giddy swarms of butterflies to arise in his stomach, or a strange warmth to bubble up in his chest, or he’d embarrass himself making careless mistakes, distracted by the thought of how it'd feel or taste. _But this time, he felt nothing._ No elevated heart rate, no unexplainable nervousness, no trouble breathing – _nothing_.

_‘If I'm dying then maybe I should.’_

Hinata blinked – blinked again – his eyes travelling upwards to meet Kageyama’s. The other boys’ eyes were _swimming_ with emotion – anger, _so much anger_ , determination, fear and something else. He was alive with emotion and Hinata was dead. He couldn't even feel jealous. _Just more nothing._

‘ _Maybe I should kiss him_.’ Hinata thought again as equally detached.

And then _Kageyama_ kissed _him_.

  
//

_Kageyama could not take it anymore._

The energetic sunshine had been blotted out by the dark. He’d tried shouting some sense into _that dumbass_ , but his words had gone unheard. The blank expression on Hinata’s face, _so lifeless and bereft of emotion,_ had hurt him. _His_ fiery passion had disappeared and his usual intensity had dulled to nothing. Not just his life, but his soul, had been stolen from him. And it hurt Kageyama _so much._

The last time that he had hurt _so badly_ was the game his teammates abandoned him. He finally, _finally_ , had found someone who made him forget that – someone he could always, _always_ , rely on. And he was losing _him_ – losing him to the rift of emptiness that had opened up inside of him. It was a pain he couldn't endure. Not just for his selfish reasons, but because he cared, _genuinely cared_ , more than he would ever admit, about his dumbass partner.

He could not just watch as Hinata’s entire spirit deflated and deserted him.

The method he was angrily trying to apply wasn’t working. His rant fell flat as soon as it tumbled out of his mouth; Hinata was deaf to his speech.

_He was alive but he was drowning; he was drowning in his helplessness._

Desperate, Kageyama pressed his lips against Hinata’s. He forcefully pushed against him – pushing his heart, his warmth, his spirit and his soul into _him_. His eyes were squeezed shut, refusing to accept the reality that Hinata might _not_ accept it. He wanted – he hoped, he wished, he prayed – that _he_ would spark back to life and brighten his world with that beautiful smile of his. Kageyama didn't care how he reacted, he just wanted him to react.

He was shaking. He could taste his own tears ( _when had he started crying?),_  and he was gripping Hinata too tight. He didn't want to let go. _He couldn't let go._ He just kept kissing him, willing him to wake up from his trance; willing him to slap him or push him away or call him names.

There was nothing else he could do. _He was drowning – drowning in his tears, his sorrow, his feelings for Hinata._

Strong arms snaked around his waist and he expected to be pulled away. He did not expect to find himself closer to Hinata. And then Hinata was kissing him back. Hesitantly at first, slow and unsure, then clumsy with renewed life and eager enthusiasm.

“Ow, you bit me dumbass.” Kageyama hissed instinctively, eyes snapping open and pulling his head back. Hinata blinked at him sheepishly, eyelashes dotted with tears and a small smile stretched across his pink lips. His eyes were wide and _swimming_ with emotion – shock, excitement, fear and something else. Kageyama was not prepared for the chaotic mess of feelings that hit him like a freight train. Tears flowed down his face before he could stop them.

“Did I really bite you that hard?” Hinata cocked his head to the side in confusion, voice quaking with laughter. Kageyama just kissed him in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll leave it to you to decide what led to Hinata feeling so numb. As I was writing it, I got more ideas for possibly a fic based from it, but idk, I might just leave it ^^;
> 
> I'm sorry for any grammatical or punctuation errors and out-of-characterness. Feel free to point it out and I'll amend it asap c:
> 
> Any, and all, feedback is appreciated (seriously, it inspires and motivates me like heck) and criticisms are always, always welcome ^-^
> 
> Thank you so, so much for taking the time to read this mess and I hope that your day is as lovely as you are ~ x


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